Tafiir
by Againstnormal
Summary: He'd pulled off the greatest heist of their lives, stolen a host of gold and even the Dragonborn's heart despite her resistance and the wars intent on destroying Skyrim. Dragonborn/Brynjolf, F Bosmer.
1. Nord Mead

My Skyrim was not like many others'. Even the Imperial guards at my first execution marked the oddity of a lone wood-elf crossing their blessed border. Those same Imperials that, together with the Stormcloaks, were determined to rip this land apart.

Only two fields flourish in the damnation of war, those in the shadows and those of the forge.

Nightingale or not, I believe the thieves' guild's recent stroke of good fortune was not connected to the defamation of Mercer Frey, though that treacherous bastard certainly deserved the tip of my sword, nor was it the inherent luck of the Dragonborn. Perhaps my "sacrilegious" elven heritage is speaking here, but the blood of dragons, _my_ blood, is not a divine blessing, nor does it make you a divinity. If anything else, it is a curse – a dealing of politics and danger unlike any chosen profession.

Talos, my glorious predecessor, would never have dabbled in bedlam, nor in heists or burglary. I, in constant comparison, duty-bound to those who would protect a legendary Skyrim and yet also with those who discard the worship of a mere man alongside the eight, am not Talos.

This is not a story of religion and worship, nor of slaying dragons or politics, though the two are quite similar sometimes. This is the story of just another Bosmer thief, stealing her way through Skyrim, slicing her way through the largest crime spree in all of history; and of taking what she wanted.

My name is Veryn Auvreathem.

And he was just another dumb Nordic brute.

…or so I thought.

Talos would not approve.

Oblivion, not one of the eight divines would approve of my actions either. I sat at the Bee and Barb in the scumhaven of Skyrim, getting as hammered as a nail in the path of an orc.

Now it seems to be a fitting beginning to our story. If the thieves' guild was scraping the bottom of the barrel, it might as well be a barrel of mead. Then, however, it was a sad repentance to an even worse day. I knew nothing of my history, my origins, but in the space of a moon cycle I'd been sentenced to execution, stolen, and been dared to reverse-pickpocket some poor man who more than likely didn't deserve it.

And if he had, the ring I'd stolen was at the bottom of the Riften canal, or possibly into Lake Honrich by now. My gift to the Nord and his "organization", to a country whose flow of gold could shrivel up and die for all I cared.  
>Skyrim. It was inhabited by more of the men the likes of which I'd seen since Helgen. Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the so aptly named Stormcloaks: a racist chasing the crown as a dog chases its tail. The empire he fights is no better, with captains who execute random prisoners and treaties that restrict worship.<p>

As Dragonborn I feel an obligatory need to fiddle with the internal workings of Skyrim, to place my fingerprint on everything of import as Talos before me did. But as myself, whoever I was learning that was, I didn't care for this damned place of snow and mountains rather than the cool ancient forests of Valenwood, nor of the people who inhabited them and their petty blood feuds, their civil wars.

As much as you could say for their attitudes, the Nords could make a good draught of mead. Though it burned through my thinner veins like no other, it served its purpose to the fullest extent. And so I was happily drunk. As if that would solve my problems.

"Isn't that a a bit strong for someone of your stature?"

I slumped against the wood table. Of all the divines, of all the fates, how small was Riften that that man couldn't find another hole in the wall to water his drunk. My cheeks flared, the color I'm sure showed on my exposed cheekbones and the tips of my elfen ears, but the primary of which he would get no pleasure from seeing as my forehead was pressed to the grain of the bar.

I raised my head only barely enough to get a draught off the bottle I'd been nursing for the past hour. It burned all the way down in a numb tingle. "What do you want?" I asked, bringing my head back up, elbows propped on the counter.

Brynjolf's annoyingly handsome face crookedly grinned back at me, playful eyes sparkling in the dim firelight in a way that could only be called intriguing and absolutely infuriating. He was wearing light armor now, of a very peculiar make - not a raiment I'd seen anywhere else. "I'd ask if I could buy you a drink, but it seems you have that covered," he said, his voice husky. It seemed I hadn't been the only one drinking, though he was as quick on his feet as ever, slipping into the seat beside me easily.

At my stare, he scooted his chair closer to mine, pressing closer until I could feel the heat from him on my side. I blushed, keeping my eyes on the corner of the bar instead of on him, but that only meant that his lean, his whisper in my ear let heated breath tickle my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "I have a proposition for you, lass. If you can steal my coin by the end of the night, you can keep it - if you join the guild. If you don't steal my coin purse I'll leave you alone." He rose his eyebrows.

"And what's my motivation then?" I asked. He smiled.

"It's simple, lass. I dare you." Despite my detest for this man earlier, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction at someone who'd sized me up so well, as he had demonstrated his skill for earlier. I bit my lip, the war between a good challenge and lawfulness seizing me - just as he'd expected.

He had already finished the mead in front of him. I motioned for another. "Are you sure you're going back to the guild tonight? You wouldn't want to fall in the canal," I mentioned, trying to seem off-hand. After a long moment of just looking at me, he leaned in again, breathing heat down my neck.

"I'm not that drunk, lass. Plying me with sweet words isn't going to help."

"Sweet words? It was merely a suggestion of caution," I replied, scooting closer to the enigmatic thief. I couldn't help but be drawn into his charm, and he knew it.

"That's what your mouth is saying, lass," he said, tapping my lips. "But your eyes say you want to take advantage of me while I'm sleeping."

"I do."

"Then perhaps one night wouldn't hurt."

I waited for him to fall asleep, almost dozing myself in my own room. I didn't know how I'd know he was sleeping, so I kept my ear to the dividing wall between us. There was no sound. The early hours of the day had come and gone with us talking until he'd retreated to bed. I wasn't going to sleep yet, however. I had a challenge to complete.

If fate had thrown this man in my way to challenge and tempt me, I wasn't going to deny it. I was trying not to think of the consequences, the thieves' guild. This would be our last night to flirt, I figured. Then he would become something similar to my "superior officer", and rules of fraternization would no doubt be involved.

I slipped into his room and he lay on the bed, eyes closed. I couldn't believe my luck. His breathing was steady, and this gave me a fine opportunity to survey the man in front of me. He was muscular, but in a way that was nearly rakish for a Nord. His closed eyes were emerald green, the color of the leaves from my home, and he still wore the well-built armor that suited his frame nicely. I reached for his plump coin purse, trying to be as silent as possible.

When my fingertips hit the leather, his eyes opened and his hand imprisoned my arm in a light grip. I cringed. "My, my. A thief. What shall I do with you?" he asked. I doubted he would let me go, so I stayed silent, a fierce blush burning on my cheeks.

He swung me over him and suddenly I was straddling him, looking down at him with my hands on his chest. Desire burned through me as the dragon blood did and I rolled my hips, grinding against him.

He let out a heated sound of approval, a soft growl that vibrated deliciously over my skin. His mouth soon followed as he leaned up to press hot kisses to my neck, making me inhale sharply as a stab of heat spiked in my core.

He trailed his lips to my jaw and down my throat, suckling briefly at the pulse point there. My hands gripped his shoulders a little harder as every kiss made my nerve endings sizzle. He used one arm to flip us over, him on top instead of me, his arousal growing increasingly hard and hot against my thigh. He was all rippling muscle like a true Nord, but his touches were gentle, his power restrained as he kissed his way down to flick his tongue over my collarbone and touching the hem of my light clothing, desire darkening his eyes to an evergreen. I seized my opportunity and squirmed, arching against him. I intended to let my prize drop to the ground and forget about it until later, but he froze, closing his eyes.

"If you would have waited a while more to do that, this would have been okay," he whispered, pulling away. My body missed the heat immediately, calling him back as a longing lover. When he stood, he pointed at the coin purse I'd just swiped off his belt, laying in my hand as a show stopper, the end of the realm of possibility between Brynjolf and me. "Meet me at the Ragged Flagon sometime soon, lass. I'll be waiting."

He left, leaving me wanting in his room. I felt like I hadn't gotten a prize at all, despite the heft of the coin purse in my hand.


	2. Brotherly love

I hung my head as the strong hand on my shirt dragged me, barely on my feet, through the door into the Ragged Flagon. The monstrously sized Nord in front of me stomped along, coin purse still plump at his belt. Something had gone horribly wrong.

Was he a guild member? Surely he wasn't, I hadn't seen him around. But I was extremely new as well, fresh off of my first real job. Would I already be expelled for stealing from another member? As soon as I'd stooped to pickpocket him, the Nord had been on me like an Imperial on politics, spinning around and snatching my hand, fury in his eyes.

If he wasn't a guild member, he was at the very least trained. I was a fair pickpocket, nothing special, not like my lockpicking, but not enough to be caught by a random Riften citizen. And he was knowledgeable too, if he knew to bring me down here instead of to the authorities who could be bribed.

A blush burnt on my cheeks as we pulled to a stop before Dirge. Vex and Delvin were engaged in quiet conversation, their eyes on the spectacle before them, but Tonilia and Vekel the Man seemed unaffected by the scene we were making.

"Maul," Dirge said, a grim tone in his voice. Obviously a recognition of the brute holding me by my collar.

"Dirge," Maul responded in greeting, an equally flat note in his voice. Their voices were oddly similar, and looks as well... brothers. How had I not caught that before? I cringed again. I could only imagine that I would be in a whole assload of trouble with Mercer and the guild for this. I'd only been truly inducted last night, receiving my armor and a toast in my honor.

Honor I'd just wiped the floor with.

"This elfling tried to pickpocket me, and I drug her down here instead of to jail. She's lucky, but warn your guild to stay off me," he said, giving me a tiny shove away from him. I moved to the side, standing on my own now but still aware I was being judged for my crime.

"You're Brynjolf's new girl, right?" Dirge asked me, barely taking his eyes off of his brother. They were roughly equal in size, and both seemed to have a roughly equal dislike for the other as well. I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, but I nodded.

"Well she's brand new, so if she managed to get the drop on you maybe you should keep a better eye on your purse, Maul," Dirge said this statement like a challenge, stepping a few inches closer to his brother. Maul scowled at the remark.

"Well that's easy to say for someone who doesn't have one," Maul said, a grab to his groin clearly indicating which form of purse he was speaking of. I backed away a little bit as the tip of Dirge's nose and ears turned red and his jaw clenched. I wasn't sure which one thew the first punch, but I inched down the bridge that lead to the

bar area, away from them.

My back hit something solid however, and I whirled around. Brynjolf.

We hadn't spoken since that night and it was beginning to be a tad hard to hide from the other guild members. I bit my lip, "hello," I ventured, trying to be friendly. His eyes were diamond hard, though they were the color of emeralds, causing me to frown as well. Standing face to face like this reminded me of how small my stature really was in comparison to his larger frame.

"That was a poor choice of mark. I told you to seize up your targets, not pick the biggest damn Nord on the Rift," he lectured. I tried to hide my shock and hid the hurt that had bubbled up where no would ever find it. His voice dropped, "And you just got a substantial pile of gold from me. It won't do to have you getting greedy, lass. That gets you killed in this business."

I looked down and clenched my jaw to keep from saying anything as his voice dropped to merely a whisper, something no one else was intended to hear. "Mercer is watching you, and this little incident might just put him off giving you higher responsibility jobs."

My pride flared, anger and embarrassment searing through me. I'd have rather been tossed in jail for the night than deal with this humiliation. I I hadn't wanted to steal the gold from Maul, but his purse had looked hefty like he could stand to lose a couple of Septims.

And I had needed coin, because my pride wouldn't let me spend Brynjolf's. I hadn't won the challenge and it felt like a sore payment for the possible friend I'd lost because we'd let chemistry and mead entangle us.

"I needed to eat," I said simply, placing his coin purse back into his hand. "It's all there, don't worry. I didn't spend a Septim." I turned away from his shock and the brothers who were still fighting, turning towards the bar. But my step wobbled, ruining my exit. Brynjolf was right there, steadying me.

"How long has it been since you last ate?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I can take care of myself," I said, walking at a slower pace so as to keep my gait even.

"How long, lass?" he asked again, reaching around front of me and pulling on my shoulders. I sighed and counted in my head, then cringed at the answer.

"Well, I had the job to get our money back, and the day before that I was with you," I said, stalling. "So... two days?"

"And why haven't you eaten?" he asked, his voice impassive and face impressively blank.

"I was busy, and, like you said yourself when I came into town, my pockets aren't exactly well-lined." Brynjolf frowned down at me, emerald stare watching my every move. I looked down and away from him.

"Vekel, get the lass something to eat. My treat. And make sure it's a decent meal," Brynjolf said, then walked away towards the cistern. My gaze followed his back as he turned into the unusual cabinet. He was a strange man. Dirge and Maul were finishing up, their clamour lessening as their stamina ran out.

Rune sat in the seat next to me, his eyes on the declining fight. He must have noticed my mood as well, for he said, "Oh, don't worry about them. They do this every once in a while. We'll just get them some raw Horker meat for their wounds, mead for their pride, and they'll be at each other's throats in no time."

It didn't make me feel better.


	3. Staccato

I walked into the thieves' guild flushed with success. I had a few reminders of my heist, a bruise here, a scrape there, and a hefty purse of gold for my troubles. I'd completed a job that even a guild third, Vex, couldn't. Goldenglow estate had fallen to my lockpicks. I was grinning ear to ear as I walked through the Flagon. Dirge scowled at me, but it was lost on me in the thrill of victory.

Afterwards I'd gone north to Windhelm, dampening the vaults of the Stormcloak rebellion. And the spoils of war had found their way to the table in front of me. Garnets, sapphires, and diamonds littered across the table. Tonilia stared at it, as if she was making calculations.

"So," I asked her, a cheeky smile on my face. "What will you give me for _these_?" She looked up at me, eyebrows raised. Her hands were planted on either side of the table as Brynjolf tended to do over the business ledger. No, this was my time. Not "Brynjolf's protege"'s time. Mine. He had nothing to do with it. He wasn't even speaking to me, though he sat at a table in the darker corner observing.

I looked up at him and he caught my eye, tilting his glass at my success. I blushed and looked back down at my treasure. I bit my lip and looked back up at him through lowered lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. He might not have been speaking to me, but, as Vekel said, maybe I was still his protege. I wouldn't be here without him, even if he wasn't speaking to me.

"I'm afraid this is beyond your allotted fence amount, Veryn," she said, staring at the jewels in front of her. "But perhaps we could store them in the guild safe until you have the allotment to sell?"

I looked down at the jewels, away from Brynjolf, who had stood and walked away, and at the so very ragged Flagon around me. "Keep them... in the guild safe." I glanced down at them again, calmly inhaling. Then I turned on my heel and walked away, down the hall towards the unusual cabinet. I didn't need the money. I had a home, I was thane of Whiterun, fairly well off gold-wise, Dragonborn... things were going pretty well.

Then I ran into someone. Looking up, chastised, I had a good idea of who it was.

"We have to stop meeting like this, lass," he said, looking down at me with a spark of amusement and perhaps something else in his eyes.

"Oh, you're talking to me now? Did you like my good deed?" I asked, playfully getting under his skin by running my index finger under his cuircass' pocket strap. He stepped closer to me and warmth lit between us. It was as if the tension had snapped and suddenly we were teetering of the edge of something we, or at least I, didn't understand.

"Don't you think you're giving too much of yourself to the guild?" He asked, his voice dropping and his left arm wrapping around my waist as if it belonged there. A flare of attraction burnt up my core.

"What, are you jealous?" I whispered, reaching on tiptoes so my lips were barely brushing his collarbone. In return, he ran the rough pad of his thumb up my neck and down my jaw, raising it and lowering his head until his lips nearly touched mine.

"Mm, perhaps," he responded, running the tip of his nose down my jaw and stabilizing me on tiptoes by wrapping his other arm around me.

"For thieves," I started, only to be interrupted by the butterfly kisses he was planting up my neck. "Don't you think we're being rather... conspicuous?"

"And what's the remedy for that, do you think?" He asked between kisses, making his way slowly up to my lips. He had started a slow-burning fire and by the Divines, he had to sate it or it would burn me alive. "Vekel's room? I'm sure he won't mind."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Oh, definitely yes." I wasn't positive about that Vekel bit, but the rest sounded fantastic. We crashed backwards into the room, our lips finally meeting and beginning an unending dance. I pulled his cuircass off, the different bits hitting the floor, without too much noise. Thank god he didn't wear heavy armor. Next I tugged off his bracers, dropping them to the floor with the rest.

I stepped away from him, my back running into the wardrobe behind me, the wood holding me where I was. My eyes swept downward and back up, taking a proper look at Brynjolf. His chest was perfectly sculpted, with a path of dark, almost black, red curls leading into his pants. A few old scars littered his skin, but his current skill seemed to keep him from most danger. I ran a finger down his chest, watching his jaw clench at the effort of hiding his arousal.

He stalked to the cabinet, placing his hands on either side of my face and bringing me in for an intensely deep kiss. I pushed my hands into his hair, pulling him closer to me, and his arousal hard against me. Brynjolf's hand teased down my side and I gasped when he found his destination, his hand felling me though my pants and the pleasure causing me to grid unnecessarily into his hand. He grinned against my lips at my reaction.

The cool moist air against my heated skin felt delicious as he kneeled to yank them off of me, eyes still staring up and Adam's apple prominent on his upturned neck. I felt the sudden desire to taste that skin, to lick a path up his Adam's apple.

Our lips connected once more in a flurry of intimate contact. I traced a finger against his arousal, feeling him grow harder at my touch in an immesurable sort of power that felt even better than Goldenglow, even better than the flush of success I'd had earlier. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"We shouldn't do this, you realize," he growled into my ear. I nodded, not trusting my voice. I hoped he wasn't backing out of this, I didn't know if I could take it. "Good." My underwear hit the stone floor with a deft flick of his fingertip before his caress moved further down.

"And you still want to?" he asked, almost in doubt. I nodded more fervently this time, tilting his head down for a kiss. He nodded sharply, as if to himself, then hoisted my legs around his waist, his hardness pressing against me, teasing. "That's... good," he said.

I moaned as Brynjolf slipped into me and began to slowly move, thrusting into me languidly, but forcefully and ever so deeply. My head bounced back, hitting the wardrobe and sending a jolt of pain to the back of my head. Shortly, however, it was lost in the fof of pleasure as he continued to bore me into the wardrobe. I could feel myself coiling tighter within, like a pin in a lock waiting to slide down. All he had to do was hit the right-

I moaned as he thrusted faster, hitting a spot within me that made stars shine behind my closed eyes. His lips came back down to mine, kissing me senseless until he had to separate for air, inhaling me as he rested his forehead against mine.

I shut my eyes, feeling the pressure within me hit its boiling point and waiting in breathless anticipation. Pleasure hit me like a Thu'um, sending me keening off the edge into the dark pleasures of Oblivion. Seconds later Brynjolf's warm seed filled me as he let out a low, strained groan. When we came down, he was still holding me, else I would have fallen to the floor. We were both breathing raggedly, breath coming in staccato bursts.

"Well, this is... problematic," a man's low voice intoned behind us. I looked over Brynjolf's shoulder to get a look at the man who'd spoken, but the shock and worry that had registered on Brynjolf's face gave me a fairly good clue. He was a Breton man, stocky but not very tall. And, obviously, a member of the thieves' guild.

Mercer Frey.


	4. Insatiable

I was cringing, pretending to be asleep and curled up on my bed at the guild. From where I lay I could barely spot the dark shadows of Brynjolf and Mercer, with Mercer standing behind the guildmaster's desk and Brynjolf in front of it, arms crossed and listening to Mercer's lecture. "It was reckless. You endanger the entirety of the guild with this stupidity!" He must have flung his arm across the desk in front of him because something shattered and other things tumbled to the rock below. "You and that... upstart are threatening guild just as Gallus and Karliah did. And how well did that end?" I didn't recognize the names, but there was an emphasized sorrow in Mercer's voice that told me the ending of their story.

"No, don't say anything," Mercer spat as Brynjolf inevitably tried to defend himself. Most of the other guild members had disappeared into the Ragged Flagon when Mercer had stormed in, trailed by a cold and pale Brynjolf and a very flustered me. There'd been hushed whispers, but they'd drifted into the ratway by now as the mead flowed freely next door. Mercer had looked right through me and told Brynjolf to tell "the elf" to get out of his sight. The deadly silence was worse than any insult he could have slung. It seemed dangerous, like silence never was to a thief.

Brynjolf's stilted reassurance assured me that everything was not in fact alright, despite what he might say.

"You two will be separated. When she finishes this job, she's going to Solitude. And you're leaving for that Whiterun job in the morning. Got it?" Mercer vented. Surely without waiting for affirmation, Mercer stomped out of the guild - slamming the door behind him with a bang. I closed my eyes immediately, letting out a whoosh of air and trying to level my breathing.

What had I expected to happen? Mercer was the guildmaster and Brynjolf was his second. He wasn't going to do anything to him, of course. I was trying to reassure myself, but the fire in the Breton man's eyes told me differently. They were filled with a fierce hate and a cruelty as cold as a frost dragon's breath - alongside a breathtaking fury aimed directly at me.

"Little elves shouldn't flick their ears at conversations that aren't meant for them," Brynjolf murmured from less than a foot away. I jumped, foiling my plan to look asleep.

He'd never really shown his skills before, but I hadn't heard a sound beneath the darkness of my closed eyelids. I wished I could sneak like that. I opened my eyes and he moved closer, standing over my bedside. He ran the pad of his finger down my pointed earlobe, just barely grazing it but sending a shiver down my spine.

I sat up, bringing my face closer to his. "Big nords shouldn't be so adept at sneaking up to women in bed. Is this a common occurance for you, Brynjolf?" I teased, watching a smirk form on his lips.

"Mmm," he said, running a finger up my jaw to my chin. His voice dropped to a whisper. "No. But I'd like it to be." The firelight danced in his eyes as a stab of indecision hit me.

"But-" I began, only to be cut off by his lips enclosing mine. I sighed into his touch, but his pause as he got into the small bed with me, pulling me on top of him so there was room for both of us, startled me back into reality. I ran my fingers through his hair, resting my head on his chest.

"I'm thinking of... joining the Companions," I said, trying to introduce a new topic. Maybe one Brynjolf could relate to, as he was a Nord. Someone once told me that Nords all wanted to be Companions when they grew up - but perhaps I was just generalizing them like they always generalized me.

No other guild members had come back into the guild, leaving it eerily silent. Apparently they had dispersed for the night after Mercer's outburst. And Brynjolf was just as silent, getting up on his elbows to stare at me. "You're thinking of joining the Companions? Are you mad?" he asked.

My eyes widened with surprise. I had offended him, though I didn't know why. "I...I'm sorry. Is it because I'm an elf? Because they had a Dunmer man in Jorrvaskr as well and I don't think being Bosmer makes any difference as long as I can hold my own in a fight. Sometimes I just get sick of sneaking around in shadows, never being noticed, never affecting anything but the heft of someone's purse when I could do so much more. And I can hold my own in a fight - really, I can. I know you've never seen it, but you don't... you don't-" I was rambling and he put a finger to my lips to stop the flow of words.

"You find the most dangerous things in Skryim and poke them with a stick, and that's what you're doing. Some of them are acting guards, lass. How are you going to explain to them why their valuables are going missing because you can't keep your sticky little fingers to yourself?" he asked. I buried my face in his shoulder.

"This just feels wrong, Brynjolf. I feel like nothing but a lowly thug. I poisoned someone today. Destroyed a man's career. I didn't join the Dark Brotherhood - I joined the Thieves' Guild. This isn't what I signed up for. "But those twins are awfully intriguing and a tad bit more... available than some," I said, finishing with a teasing grin. He pulled his arms around me, pulling me up his body until we were nearly face to face. His hard muscle rippling against my more supple curves. I shuddered.

"Ah, but you'll never meet a man as fantastic as me, lass," he said, a cocky grin on his handsome face. I was quite sure he was right, but I continued anyway.

"Mmm, but the guildmaster doesn't approve," I murmured against the skin of his collarbone, mocking his accent. He grinned at my imitation, pulling me up for a proper kiss that left my heart pounding and body aching for more.

"I don't care right now, lass. No one's here, we've the guild to ourselves. How shall we spend this time?"

Or another man as insatiable.

**A/N: Thinking about writing a Vilkas/Dragonborn next - only set in modern day. We shall see.  
>Review! <strong>


	5. Portentous

I sat on the hard bench, leg pulled to my chest. I was rereading Three Thieves just to pass the time before my next job. It was still full sun outside, and I preferred the dark to work even if it wasn't actually necessary. I bit into an apple from the table, crossing my other arm over my knee and setting my book down spine-up.

Rune was cooking something a few steps away from me, entranced by his work as if it was the most delicate of master locks. "Whatchya cooking?" I asked, taking another bite of the crisp apple. He looked over his shoulder in surprise. I don't think he'd realized there was someone sitting in the dark shadows by the food cabinets.

"Stew. Would you like some?" he said, motioning with his spoon towards the stewpot. I shook my head, grinning. He faked a disheartened look, then turned back to his stew with slumped shoulders.

"I don't trust anything you make. I saw you put two full bottles of mead into your last meal," I laughed, standing up and walking towards him, looking into the stew. It didn't actually look that bad. "What's in it?" I asked, carefully sniffing. It didn't smell bad at all actually.

"Oh, some carrots, leeks, diced horker-" I wrinkled my nose at the last. Nords didn't seem to think a meal could be a meal without mead or meat. "Oh, you're one of those damn leaf-eaters," he said, a look of disgust on his face but a twinkle in his eye. "Is that a wood elf thing?"

I chuckled. "Not exactly. Quite the opposite really." I hopped up on a barrel, one leg dangling over the side. "Have you ever heard of the Green Pact?"

When you were surrounded with the life of the forest, the every day struggle for existence, you began to value your position as top of the food chain. I didn't even revel in killing sabre cats that attacked me, nor in the dragons I'd slayed. A predator extinguished, finding its death as prey was nothing to be proud of.

Of course, other Bosmer especially in Valenwood believed that a plant should never be harmed - creating weapons out of bone and eating only meat, including that of their freshly killed enemies. Family reunions would have been interesting, could I remember my family.

A commotion by the Ragged Flagon entrance drew my eye. The door banged open and Tonilia rushed in, standing to the side and ushering the next people in. "Get him over there!" she commanded. Delvin's back emerged from the hallway, and then came a man's body.

I knew immediately who it was. Brynjolf. I started forward, my half-eaten apple tumbling to the stones by my feet. Vex and Delvin were just helping him onto the bed when I got over. "What happened?" I asked. I was sure my voice was rushed and desperate, but I couldn't bring myself to care what they thought was going on between us, even when Tonilia's dark eyes flitted up to mine briefly like someone whose suspicions had just been confirmed.

"We don't know. He just stumbled in from the Ratway. He obviously couldn't make it down the ladder," Vex said. The makeshift bandage around Brynjolf's leg was beginning to show signs of soaking, and it looked dirty, like a torn off piece of travelling clothing would. "None of us have medic or healing skills and we gave him a potion already. It's not helping." Even Vex seemed stricken. She wasn't acting like her usual thorny self.

"...I do. I can heal him," I said, looking around at their faces for approval. I rolled my my sleeves, glad I hadn't worn my guild armor.

"Then get to it! Don't just stand there, there's work to do!" Vex said. That seemed a bit more like her. I knelt at Brynjolf's bedside, feeling his head for a fever. His skin was clammy, but a firey fever raged beneath it. I rattled off a list of ingredients for someone to fetch and Delvin left.

"Is he poisoned?" Tonilia asked.

I shook my head." I don't know for sure yet, but I think so." Her and Vex stood, anxiously flanking the bed with crossed arms. I undid the bandage from his leg slowly, not wishing to cause it any more harm. The stench of old blood and infection hit me in a daze of dizziness, but I held off. This was Brynjolf and he needed me.

A glowing, tinkling light pulled from within myself lit my hands, which I placed over his leg, muttering the spell. I let a warm glow of magic sink into him, carefully repairing sinew and muscle through the touch of magic. There I found traces of poison in the wound, which I drew into the water bowl Tonilia got for me. The poison looked as dark as death on water. Vex took the bowl with her, heading to an alchemist who could examine the samples if all else failed.

From the size of the wound, I guessed that it had been an arrow puncture. But now the question remained, where had he been that they'd had enough warning to use a bow? When I was done healing the wound, all of my energy would be used - I knew. It was difficult work to heal, the magnitude of energy needed to heal would usually take the injured several weeks to accumulate and recover, rather than minutes.

I could feel my strength failing me even as I closed his first wound and began my search for others, stripping him and feeling with the pads of my fingers for any other injuries. When my fingers had been on his skin just nights ago, I wouldn't have imagined the next time would be to save his life. His shoulder was slightly dislocated, but that was easily fixed. His fever was the only thing that yet worried me, but I was sure Delvin was gathering the ingredients for a hopeful antidote as quickly as he could.

Tonilia was dabbing Brynjolf's forehead with a cool damp cloth soaked in juniper berries and water when I sat back. The exhaustion hit me all at once. "Veryn?" she asked as my eyelids flickered. She sat down the cloth and grabbed my upper arm to support me as I stood up. "Veryn, are you okay? Maybe you should sit down." I stumbled towards my bed and guild chest, where I kept a few potions just in case. My head was spinning, but I tried to think logically. I couldn't run just on potions, so maybe I would catch a quick nap. That sounded good.

"I'm fine, just... tired." Then I collapsed.

I woke hours later in my bed, the stale feeling on me like I'd been asleep for an eternity. I opened my eyes groggily, focusing on the domed guild ceiling above me and blinking away from the sun shining in. I groaned, throwing my arm up over my eyes. My head was pounding. Overexertion be damned, I felt like I had spent my day drinking an entire barrel of mead.

I looked to my right and there he sat. Brynjolf was pulled up in a chair next to me. I smiled sleepily at him, attempting to sit up and talk, but a burning pain seared up my back before I could raise myself. He grabbed my arm, stabilizing me.

"Easy, lass," Brynjolf said quietly as he lowered me back onto the bed. "You've taken quite a fall I hear." I cringed. Quite a fall indeed. To have made a novice mistake like casting to the point of overexertion and then standing up quickly was quite embarrassing. My pride hurt worse than the bruises I could feel littering my body.

"Ugh, yeah," I said, then realized something obvious. "Hey. You're awake," I said. He nodded. "And healthy?" I asked. He nodded again, a smile on his lips to match the relieved one on mine. "And not poisoned?"

"Not anymore. Your powers of observation continue to serve you well*," he said, grinning. I rolled my eyes at him.

"So, what happened?" I asked, slowly pulling myself up to lean against the wooden headboard despite Brynjolf's worried look. I could see around the guild now - a few were stirring but most of the guild was still asleep, leading me to believe it was early morning. I'd lost the whole night.

"After you fainted or while I was in Whiterun?" he asked.

"Both. Chronologically. Spare me no details," I said, turning towards him to listen and putting my arm under my head for support. My curiosity got me another smile and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if to recapture the story.

"Whiterun got complicated the moment I stepped through the gates. I hadn't even spoken to the contact yet, but the guards were hostile, like they knew who I was and why I was coming. I decided to wait the night so the guards would lower their hackles and let the city cool down. I stayed the night at the local in, but I woke in the middle of the night to a "by the order of the Jarl" outside my door.

"They were hunting for me." He met my eyes as if to underline the significance of that. Whiterun had only recently come under our influence again, to be hunted in a newly loyal city was worrisome indeed, especially for Brynjolf who didn't do too many jobs outside of the Rift. "As you can tell, I got out. I went through my window, but I landed wrong." He touched his shoulder unconsciously as he said it. "One of them got an arrow off, as you noticed, and I came back as fast as I could."

"And after I fainted?" I asked, hoping to get all of the background before I made any assumptions. Brynjolf's story, however, was troubling. It was as if someone was out to get guild - and suddenly it made sense why some had said the guild was under a curse. A story like that could only come from a rat. And the ratway had more than its fair share, it seemed.

"Etienne has some alchemy training so he mixed up your ingredients when Delvin got back and Vex forced the mixture down my throat." He cringed, as if remembering the taste, then shook his head. "I felt better immediately. What was even in that?"

"You don't want to know."

He shook his head. "No, I probably don't." A moment of silence passed as we both contemplated the day and what was to come, a foreboding thought.

"What are we going to do, Brynjolf?" I asked. Brynjolf sighed, running his hand through his hair and looking at me like he wasn't quite sure what I was asking. I wasn't sure either. What were we going to do about our fraternization, about the rat, about our beloved guild that was falling apart despite our best efforts?

"Well, this was Mercer's job for me, so I need to speak with him about the source. It's just-" he sighed again. "Be careful, lass. There's something going on here, and I don't like it." He was leaning forward in his chair now, one elbow on my bed and the other resting on his leg. I grabbed his hand, surprised by my own actions but actually liking the feel of his callused, large hand completely ensconcing mine.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle myself," I said, punctuating my statement with a cocky grin. He rolled his eyes, which seemed to throw firelight back from around the guild. How a Nord had ended up with the coloring of Valenwood, I'd never know. Red hair like the reflection of Autumnal leaves on a dark brook, eyes the color of the forest in deep Midyear.

"You just fainted," he replied.

"Because I was healing you."

"Well then. Don't worry about me," he said. That was the very thing I was worried about. When he was away I constantly worried. I'd taken to pacing, nearly wearing one of the rag rugs thin in front of the Ragged Flagon's hallway entrance. The thought of him dying... it made me feel sick, literally like my heart had been taken along with my breath. It terrified me another way too. We were at the edge of a cliff and ready to jump, but I wasn't quite sure we knew how long the fall would go.

Or what the consequences would be.

Mercer stomped into the guild, heading straight over to the ledgers. "I'm going to go talk to him," Brynjolf said as he stood up. "But... be careful on your next mission. Karliah already took one of my greatest friends from me I'll not have her take- you, as well. I'd go with you two, but I've been ordered away. Too many eggs in one basket, I guess." He chuckled darkly.

I forced myself to stand up, throwing my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his stubbily cheek. I was sure Mercer would explain who Karliah was and what she had done to the guild later, but now I didn't care if Mercer saw - he couldn't afford to lose the amount of gold I was bringing into the guild and he couldn't afford to lose Brynjolf's leadership in his absence either. He pulled his arms around my waist, bringing me in closer to his warmth.

"Be careful," he said, then pushed my jaw up lightly for a full-blown kiss that felt too much like goodbye.  
>After, he turned on his heel and stalked off to talk to Mercer without another word, leaving me stunned and standing there for a few moments merely watching his retreating broad shoulders. I sat down on the wooden table's bench, fingering the pages of the book in front of me. I would miss him. I wasn't sure what kind of danger I was heading into, but he seemed to know all too well.<p>

"Wood elf! Stop mooning and get your ass moving. We're leaving!" Mercer called. I hurried to catch up to him. The guild door shut heavily, which felt like a bad omen, but I was ready to face the betrayer of the guild.****  
><strong>**

For better or worse.

***did you get the V for Vendetta reference? If so, I love you.**


	6. My regards

_"I'll give your regards to Brynjolf."_

I awoke with a gasp, sitting straight up in my makeshift cot. A spark of fire lit up my chest, crippling me with agony for a moment as my wound made itself known. Someone sat beside me, exactly as Brynjolf had, placing their thin arms over my chest and pressing me back down into the pillows. I looked around, trying to get a handle on where I was. Finally I looked next to me, right into the eyes of a dark elf. Karliah.

"Calm down, you've been stabbed," she said in an attempt to sooth me. Her face puckered up in amusement momentarily, "and also, I suppose, poisoned. But that would be my fault."

I'd thought she'd betrayed the guild... but no. That wasn't her who had killed Gallus. It was Mercer.

Everything was starting to become clear as I came to the dumb realization that Mercer had betrayed us all. The guildmaster, our leader, untouched by the thieves' guild curse. Mercer Frey.

And he had threatened Brynjolf. I had to get back to the guild immediately. I looked wildly up at Karliah before shoving off the blanket on top of me and struggling out of bed, staggering over to the pile of my clothes despite the searing pain in my chest. She said nothing, but remained coldly detached as I yanked the clothing and armor on, then sheathed my weapons.

Looking around the room, I paced, searching for an exit. There didn't seem to be one visible, but there had to be a way out. There always was.

"How do I get out?" I asked, spinning on her, quickly pulling the ends of my strength into a half-done healing spell, holding my hands to my wound.

"You can't," she said dully.

"What do you mean I can't? I have to get back to the guild, I have to tell them," I said, my voice rising. "He threatened Brynjolf. I am going back even if I have to go through you," I said.

I thought she'd understand that I couldn't let him kill Brynjolf the way he'd killed Gallus, but she just shook her head mutely.

"You can't go back, not without proof," she said, shaking my shoulders. "Whatever you've seen, whatever they think, he is their guildmaster. And you need proof."

After that it had been a long, hard couple of weeks. After my brush with death at Mercer's hands nothing had really felt the same. I didn't know what havoc he was creating back at the guild but I couldn't go back, not yet. Not until I got the translation of Gallus' diary and righted all that was wrong.

One night, out of the blue, Karliah sat down next to me on the bench. We were waiting for the translations to be transcribed onto fresh paper and I was watching Enthir work. "You... love him, don't you?" she asked. I glanced over at her in shock, but her purple eyes stared back at me solidly.

I couldn't tell her that my fear for him felt like a deathblow to the chest, that even my stab wound from Mercer had been nothing in comparison to the pain I felt wondering if he was alive or dead. I couldn't tell her that I spent every waking moment aching to be back even if it would mean my death, just to make sure he was safe.

And the fearsome loathing I felt towards Mercer for threatening him, corrupting all of my thoughts with a tinge of black hatred and the terrible desire for dark, hot revenge. There would be blood for this, and it wouldn't be any more of mine.

Instead, I answered yes. It seemed easier than explaining.

She put her hand on my back and we watched as Enthir scribed the words of her dead lover that would possibly keep mine alive, connected by our heritage, our fear, and our desperate hope that not all was lost.

* * *

><p>We came through the Ragged Flagon entrance and were met with a hostile group of some of my dearest friends. I closed my eyes at the knowledge they would now have to hold, at the news I bared. When I opened my eyes, Brynjolf stood in front of me. My breath caught as I stared at him, alive and whole, as healthy as I'd ever seen him, if a bit haggard.<p>

I touched my palm to his face, then placed my fingertips along his cheekbone. There was disbelief in his eyes, but I threw my arms around his neck and took in a shaky breath. He smelled wonderful like he always had, if a tad too much like mead. He was real. His arms came up around me, pulling me tight to him, like he'd never let me go again.

I dipped my head, pressing in into his chest and inhaling his scent, letting my arms slide down to his back. His hands were on my waist, warming me from the chill I hadn't realized I'd felt. I'd never heard so heavenly a sound as his heartbeat, and finally the tears started sliding down my face. "Divines, you're alive," I whispered.

I glanced up and he was looking back down at me with a kind of distant hope. "But... Mercer told us all you'd been killed by her. That..." he paused, as if to collect himself. "You were shot and fell off the cliff into the seas below," I shook my head into his chest, clutching my hands into his armor so I wouldn't have to worry he was gone again. He seemed to be using Mercer's exact phrasing, trying to understand and cope with what had just happened.

"Sorry, lass, but I think they're waiting for us," he said. We didn't separate though, not completely. Our hands were still connected as I faced the guild, a flush burning on my cheeks similar to the looks on some of the guild members' faces. They'd just seen something intimate, something personal, and something not all of them cared to see.

Quickly, I outlined Mercer's betrayal - from Gallus' murder... to his theft of everything the guild owned. The tension in the air was palpable as the vault door had opened, and I knew the contents of said vault meant my and Karliah's fate. When the doors opened, inside lay the dusty remains of what had once been a treasure trove, but now was left in cobwebs.

Now, across the guild, members looked haunted by the betrayal - another stroke of bad luck and this time a direct hit from one of our own. I sat on a chair in the vault as Delvin undertook the tedious process of counting the guild's losses, my head in my hand and just thinking, pondering on revenge. Karliah had quickly been dismissed of Gallus' murder, though she had disappeared shortly after, feeling as if she was intruding because she was no longer part of the guild family.

Hair was falling in my eyes and I blew my cheeks out, pushing the strands away. Delvin's finished some scratch work in the business ledger he had held out in front of him for hours, then put the quill down. "126,234 Septims worth of treasure. Gone," he announced. I closed my eyes. I had no idea how the guild would ever recover from such a loss, or how it would affect Vekel. Even my contribution those long weeks ago wouldn't touch a loss like this. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm getting a drink." Vex handed him a bottle of ale and he turned to leave.

Vex left with him, leaving Brynjolf and I alone in the vault. He was leaning on the wall across the room. He crossed the room in few strides, pulling me from my chair and bringing me into his arms, his lips already on mine. In between kisses, during breaks for air, Byrnjolf said, "All of that gold... What they don't know is that I have the treasure of the thieves' guild... right... here."

When we finally pulled away for a gasping breath, our eyes flickered to each other, staring. I was trying to figure out where this was going, but it was a much too complex topic for my mind at the moment and divines, did it even matter? I knew what I wanted right now, and Brynjolf seemed more than willing to give it to me.

He dropped his head to mine again, pressing his lips against mine and moving his hands up my torso. He slid me backwards so my knees were situated around the edge of the table, but he didn't take his lips from mine once. My legs wrapped around him tightly as he kissed up my neck and down my jaw.

He rocked into me and I groaned, arching my back as he put his arms on each side of me to stabilize himself, giving me access to his pants, which I pushed down quickly. When they were discarded, I reached down and stroked up the length of his shaft with just the tip of my finger, the smallest touch seeming to be the most effective since he strained toward me, his kiss becoming more heated and desperate.

Now only my armor was between us and Brynjolf made quick work of it, tossing it to the floor with disgust as if pants should never be worn. Without another word he closed the small distance between us, his hips pushing my legs wide as he made our bodies flush. I gasped and dropped my head back for a moment, his warm breath on my cheek as we both took a moment to adjust. Divines, there wasn't a better feeling in the world, nor a feeling of being more whole than I did now.

I moaned quietly before rolling my hips against his, my signal for him to continue. He started into a heady rhythm right away. At first I was too overwhelmed to function, I just tensed up, stopping almost entirely and just feeling, not thinking. I fought to breathe while biting my bottom lip to keep from crying out. The urge to kiss him was strong but I was too lost in the moment to move properly.

Brynjolf wasn't affected by it though, as he moved his hips back he was also kissing up my neck - planting kisses on a sensitive spot just where my jaw and ear connected.

Soon I started to move with him, pushing against his thrusts and deepening his position to a whole new level that almost drove the air from my lungs. I stole a downward glance and watched as he kept a steady, fast-paced rhythm, biting my lip. I gripped his shoulders and forced myself to tear my eyes away from where our bodies were joining. I couldn't help but to tense up as the pressure inside me built, causing him to groan and grip my hips tighter.

He kept up the steady tempo until I was on the brink of finishing, then sped up, pushing farther and faster until my body couldn't take it anymore and the climax came on me like I'd just fus do rah'd myself off a cliff. I couldn't hold back a throaty moan but he didn't seem to mind, despite the fact that we were in the extremely exposed vault and well... extremely exposed. He finished a couple seconds later, pushing his forehead against mine and groaning, his fingers tightening on my skin momentarily.

He kept one arm around me as he put the other hand beside me on the table so he could lean against it as he recovered. The draft in the room was cold but it felt good against my heated skin, cooling the fire that had lit within me. I rested my cheek on Brynjolf's shoulder as we caught our breath, our chest heaving.

"Welcome home, lass," he said, a tired smirk quirking up one side of his face. I grinned, pressing my nose against his collarbone. Tiredly, I scooted off the edge of the table and pushed him back, gesturing at his abandoned armor. He reluctantly pulled it on as I did mine, but was surprised when I grabbed his hand and led him into the guild.

At my bed I again stripped and slid under the covers, waiting for Brynjolf to do the same, but he just stood there. I pulled the covers up under my chin and looked up at him expectantly, prompting him to ask, "the others?" I shrugged. I didn't care what the others thought at this point.

We were both thoroughly exhausted and each other's warmth lent us the comfort to lull us to sleep. Brynjolf put his arm around my waist as our eyes began to flicker shut. I closed my eyes in contentment and he kissed my forehead. My eyes popped open and I smiled up at him, only to be met with a look of mixed worry and time his lips met mine and he whispered, "I was so worried."

**Reviews are the lone candle of inspiration in the darkness that surrounds me.  
>or, you know, not. <strong>


	7. One thick thief

I set a scrap of paper on the worn table. It was small, but for Rune, it would mean the world. He was in the middle of a conversation with the other men of the guild, but was silenced by my unobtrusive entrance. He looked down at the paper and back up at me in confusion.

"What's this then?" he asked, picking up the piece of paper. Thankfully, he knew how to read. I'd seen him teaching himself awhile back, sitting at the table with a book in his hand - perhaps asking a question or two once in a while. His brow knitted while reading this though, a look of confusion overcoming his face.

"A location," I said. I'd found a trace of a missing child among an old pirate band that used to roam the sea.

They'd settled now in a small village on the ice lakes near Winterhold, but they were still hostile toward outsiders. "They might... know your name," I finished.

I'd found an old map in the Blades' basement, one that had a runic marking on it exactly like Rune had shown me. It was the name of the pirate ship they'd sailed, written in the script of the snow elves. They were rumored to have the last snow elf as their leader, but that was sure to be a myth.

But so was the Dragonborn.

A grin spread across Rune's face and his eyes lit with joy. He came around the table, grabbing me and pulling me into a bear hug. I smiled against his shoulder. He was the closest thing I'd ever had to a brother and I was so glad I could help him find his way home.

"It's just a lead... Don't be gone too long or come back to us when you're done, will you?" He pulled away, holding me at arm's length with a grin.

"Of course I will, Ver. And you be careful too - don't trust that Nord. He's never had a steady girl before," he said, just as a brother would. Then he touched his temple and said "Not that you're exactly steady," implying that I was addled in the mind. I smiled and punched his arm.

"Go," I said, pushing him towards the secret ladder. When he'd climbed up and disappeared, I sank down onto the bench. Little did Rune know, I didn't need to keep my distance from Brynjolf right now - he was doing a fine job of keeping his distance from me. Ever since our meeting in the vault, he'd been avoiding me as if I had the plague.

Instead of focusing on his attitude, I focused on helping Rune. I'd found the map a while ago, but I'd wanted to check the facts before I gave it to him. He wasn't naive, but he would get his hopes up. I wanted there to be some meaning in this for him, and I wanted to leave him with it before we went after Mercer because I had no clue if we were coming back. If I was coming back.

Approaching this mission, preparing for it, felt a lot like walking to the chopping block in Helgen. The anticipation, the horror, and the desperation all mixed into one stewing pot of restlessness. Whatever would come, would come. Perhaps it would be at the will of Nocturnal or the Divines, or perhaps it would be in our own hands, but it was coming. And it was dangerous.

Karliah had returned to the Guild only to get Brynjolf and I moving. We'd gotten too distracted in explanations and needed to focus on ridding the Guild of Mercer forever. Now Brynjolf stood at the door waiting for us, as we made our goodbyes to everyone in the guild. Karliah was talking to Vekel by the bar when I walked in and Brynjolf stood at the Ratway entrance.

"Are you ready to go yet, lass?" he called. Foolishly, my heart fluttered despite the fact that I was sworn to be angry with him for the way he had treated me. I just couldn't handle it when he called me lass. The plethora of accents in Skyrim had not made me immune to his, and I couldn't help but find the accent extremely attractive.

"Y-" I began to call, before I was interrupted by Karliah's musical voice from the counter. "Don't get your panties in a wad, Bryn. I'm just getting supplies." I flushed, a red heat burning up my cheeks in embarrassment. Brynjolf was obviously listening to her, but his eyes were on me, judging my reaction. He'd been calling for her, not for me.  
>"Lass" obviously wasn't an exclusive nickname, it just meant "girl". It wasn't even complimentary. I was trying to reason with myself, trying not to be upset or hurt. It was only a nickname. And she'd called him one too. Bryn seemed like a rather intimate nickname, but they'd been friends for years...<p>

That line of thought didn't make me feel better.

"Veryn, are you ready?" Karliah asked, stopping as she made her way to Brynjolf. I sighed, standing and walking behind her, sure my foul mood was obvious on my face. I didn't mind that he was ignoring me, I told myself. I just wanted to know why. If it was for the guild... maybe he was justified in doing it, but it wasn't fair of him to cut me out of his thought process as if I wasn't involved.

He didn't glance back after Karliah reached him, stepping behind her and following her lead but leaving me behind. Finally, I felt a cold anger itch its way up through my fingertips, aching to yank him around and ask him why he was acting like a skeever had crawled up his ass. And vaguely desperate too, to know if I'd done something wrong or if this was something he'd decided without my intervention.

I wasn't sure which would be better.

* * *

><p><p>

Karliah entered the Nightingales' Cave ahead of us, leaving both of us outside in the bitter wind. Brynjolf sighed, running his hand through his red hair. He looked haggard, like someone who carried more than their own weight on their shoulders. Despite my anger towards him, I placed my hand on his shoulder. I hadn't known Mercer very well, but Brynjolf had - or thought he had, at least. I didn't know how that betrayal felt and I didn't ever want to know.

"Before we go in there... before we do this thing... I wanted you to know that Karliah and I have talked it over and we feel that the position of guildmaster befits you most," he said it with a straight face, but I couldn't help but double over with laughter, despite the fact that my laugh would probably draw predators from all around to the spot.

"Yeah, right, okay," I said, my hand on the door, ready to leave that conversation behind us. But now his hand was on my shoulder, the weight and warmth and look in his eye telling me he hadn't been joking around.

"Neither of us saw Mercer's betrayals coming, but you had your eye on him from the beginning. It was you who brought the guild back from the brink of Oblivion." He touched my chin. "For once, Delvin's daft gut instincts were correct about something."

I stepped away from him, the shock of what he'd said finally sinking in. Me as the guildmaster? Who'd been merely a whelp only weeks ago? I shook my head vigorously. I was sick of getting thrown into leadership roles like this, thrust into new responsibilities before I even had a chance to comprehend my duties.

"But... why not you? Why not Delvin? Why not Vex?" I asked, leaning against the cave's entrance, my eyes on the ground beneath my feet.

"I've never been the leading type, lass. Delvin and Vex would have the guild in shambles within days - they're not exactly people-friendly. We need someone as intelligent as Mercer, as talented as Gallus, and as kind as Karliah for our guildmaster." I looked up at that, shocked. Brynjolf had just paid me a high compliment, but he brushed past it like he'd said nothing but the obvious. I blushed. Was that really me? "Someone who can put up with the day-to-day of guild life, and someone who's... unattached."

"Unattached?" I echoed, a question in my voice. I could feel my heart sinking in my chest. Unattached. As in... He caught my hand as I brought it to my chest, trying to comfort me. He didn't want to be with me.

"You see what the guild did to Karliah and Gallus. Do you want to live like them?" I heaved in a breath of air, trying to steady myself. I was a dragon soul, Dovakiin, a foreign warrior, Thane of Whiterun, Alduin's bane and by the divines I would not cry in front of him. My breath caught in my chest, my eyes stinging as I blinked upwards, trying to rid myself of the traitorous moisture that had gathered there.

No man, despite how charming and witty he was, would make me cry after the horrors I'd seen without shedding a tear. It didn't seem right to those who'd gone without mourning that I would mourn what had apparently been such a one-sided infatuation.

I snatched my hand away from him, jabbing him in the chest with my pointer finger. "That wasn't the guild. That was Mercer. And this, this is all you."

**Review!**

**Between this chapter and the next, the Trinity is reunited and they go after Mercer.**


	8. Rent

The weeks that came next were some of the hardest I'd endured yet. We'd hunted Mercer down and he'd met his end at the tip of my sword only small minutes before the lot of us had nearly drowned. I'd headed straight for Whiterun after, to recuperate in my own home and do one final job as just another lackey of the guild. Karliah had understood, but Brynjolf looked at me like he was seeing a ghost. Maybe he was.

The ghost soul of a dragon trapped within a wood elf. Humanity and even elven kind wouldn't accept me, treat me as their own, because I was "dragonborn", but the dragons ravaged the land and wouldn't accept peace offerings from me or a member of any other land-dwelling race. I was a soul caught in no man's land, in the middle of a conflict just like the Nords of Skyrim found themselves in.

A dragon attacked Whiterun on my second day back. The people were terrified, and didn't realize that the dragon was merely seeking revenge as any one of them would do if someone had treated their family as Olaf had treated his. The dragon's grandsire was Numinex, enslaved by King Olaf in Dragonsreach - humiliated and shamed to the point of insanity. At the end, Numinex couldn't remember the shout of his own name, the fiber of his being, what made his Thu'um.

I'd slain the dragon on the steps of Dragonsreach, his bones touching stone as his soul washed into me. His last words were "No, Dovakiin." But he'd slaughtered too many in his quest for revenge, and too many would find their vengeance in other dragons if they did not have his death. He'd killed the man who ranted about Talos in the center of the city.

We hadn't gotten along, but I grabbed the old man's body and wished desperately that I could have saved him. I didn't want his death, despite our disagreements.

Now I stumbled into the Flagon, my body tired from the trek I'd undertaken in one day and my emotions so strung out that the sight of a giant hugging his mammoth had almost brought me to tears on the way back home. Home, this was home now. In fact, I wondered if I'd missed my inauguration. Was it even called that if you were being promoted to guildmaster? I didn't think so.

I plopped down on a stool in front of Vekel, tapping the bar three times. He said nothing, but his eyes held the curiosity of someone who'd been in the guild too long. We all knew all of each others' secrets. He set three glasses in front of me, but warned me to "take it easy, okay?" in a low tone. I shook my head.

If only he knew. I wanted to take it easy, really, I did. But every time I tried to settle into a new place - to help and become a member and let that place become home I just became some kind of rallying point for the members instead of an actual member. It was lonely being Dragonborn - and now that that Nord had made his lack-of-intentions clear, I didn't have any company other than that of my housecarl, who constantly reminded me that she was not with me by choice but rather "sworn to bear my burdens". I'd left Lydia in Riften - she thought I was on official business with the Jarl.

I sighed into my drink before taking another hefty swig. Divines, I couldn't stand mead. To me, mead tasted like skeever shit. And knowing Vekel's cleaning habits (one dirty rag constantly wiping the same spot on the dusty bar, one broom sweeping only the most obvious dirt away) it might actually have skeever shit in it. I rested my head on the bar, shaking my head against the grain.

My three drinks were gone and replaced by another empty three when two large hands rested on my shoulders, giving me a light tug away from the bar. I sighed and let him pull me away, resting my cheek on his shoulder as he half-carried, half-led me away, down past the storage cabinet entrance and through the thieves' guild door. He opened it and brought me to his bed, laying me down.

My eyes stayed resolutely shut. I couldn't make myself be mad at him, not right now, but I didn't have to see him. He didn't have to know that I couldn't keep a grudge against him. Soon, I would be his guildmaster. And I couldn't be "attached".

He pulled his bed fur over me, tucking it around my neck, then left. I thought he was gone until I felt him behind me, pulling himself under the fur and wrapping his arm around me. "I'm so sorry lass," he whispered into my hair, pulling me closer. "I was an idiot."

I turned towards him and let him wrap his arms around me, putting my head on his shoulder. He was so big in comparison to me, and so warm too. And we fit perfectly, just like this. "We both are," I whispered into his skin. I wasn't sure if I meant we were both sorry or both idiots, but I felt it worked either way.

When I woke in the morning he wasn't in bed. Without him in bed I could feel a damp chill in the air. I didn't open my eyes or move, but pulled the bed fur up, trying to snuggle into it for warmth. I felt utterly content, moreso than I had for a couple weeks. His presence was oddly soothing to me, like only he could calm the dragon soul.

His hand came to rest on my side. I hadn't realized he was sitting at the end of the bed, warming just that spot.

I opened my eyes to look down at him, but he was staring at the floor as if it held all of the answers in the world. When I sat up, wrapping the fur around me, he looked over and smiled - the crooked smile that had told me this thief was going to steal my heart. He looked nervous though, and it worried me. I scooted closer to him, then placed my hand on his cheek.

He sighed, as if preparing himself, then said, "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it sort of right." He held out his hand to me, and laying in his palm, surrounded by dagger scars and lockpick calluses, the scars of prison shackles, was a ring. My eyes widened and I looked up from it to him as he continued. I'd never seen him so flustered before, so not in control of his tone and... nervous. He was nervous.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, mind you. I'm not really the marriageable type. But it's gold, and it means something. And I bought it, I didn't steal it. And it has an enchantment that'll make you nearly as good at sneaking as me." He smiled, his eyes alight with something I recognized from Vekel when he looked at Tonilia. I couldn't help myself, I knew I was grinning like a fool. And maybe I was a fool. We both were.

My hand shook as I reached for it, holding back a swell of warmth in my heart. I held the ring between my fingers for a moment, looking at it.

It was just a simple ring without adornment, but I could feel the power radiating off of the enchantment on it. A ring. Brynjolf gave me a ring. I placed it on my wedding ring finger, admiring it before I shook my head, removing it. I was annoyed at myself. He'd said it hadn't meant anything. It was just a maybe.

He placed his hand over mine, and said, "I think that's the right place for it, lass." He slipped the ring back on my finger and I threw my arms around him, letting go of a big breath of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and drew in another equally large breath. He smelled like deep forest, where five people couldn't stretch their arms around the truck of a tree, Like the freshest snow at the throat of the world, where we'd probably have to travel since Paarthurnax was the closest thing to a father I had. Both would be surprised. I couldn't wait.

He smelled like home.

**Only the epilogue left! Review!**


	9. An ending

What do you do once you're the guildmaster of a rapidly ascending guild, one whose power and mobility will soon sweep all of the continent - not just Skryim. What do you do when the world's gold is at your fingertips and you're in the favor of a daedric prince? When the crown of Barenziah rests on a mannequin head behind your desk, along with the spoils of a litany of larceny?

I stepped around the corner into the guild, careful not to make wake the sleeping members. I didn't want to scare Rune either, who was keeping watch. Rune - who'd discovered his true name but didn't go by it because "you lot wouldn't know how to pronounce it" - looked up with a smile and waved.

I slipped over to Brynjolf's bed, my Nord, shirtless and asleep and not aware of my presence at all. I leaned down, shrugging off my armor and climbing in with him, pressing light kisses to his neck. He pulled me close in sleep, putting his arm around me but still breathing deeply and steadily, still fast asleep. His protege had improved since that night at the Bee and Barb what seemed like so long ago.

So what do you do when the Jarl's thoughts are at your whim? When you have no bounty in any of the holds, despite the rapidly refilling vault? When your second is your lover and your best friend and maybe more but you'll see? I sighed, relaxing into his shoulder and closing my eyes.

You sleep.

**The end! What did you think? Review!**


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